


An Illicit Alliance

by Sunsetter



Series: No Sweeter Lie [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Lesbian Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor spoilers for S02E06, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunsetter/pseuds/Sunsetter
Summary: Whitney Frost needs to be stopped and Peggy is all out of options. How fortunate that Dottie is in a giving mood.





	An Illicit Alliance

“Are you absolutely sure she’ll come this way?”

This was the _third_ time chief Sousa asked that very same question in the past ten minutes and by now, Peggy was getting tired of repeating herself. She knew Daniel didn’t trust Underwood as much as he could throw her, but she had at least hoped he would trust his fellow agent. To be fair, Peggy shared his mistrust of their ill-begotten ally. Yet if there _was_ any one thing you could count on with Dottie, it was  precisely the fact that she could never be trusted. With that in mind, there was little doubt the Russian agent would do the exact opposite of what she was instructed and thus fall right into their hands.

“Chief, if you have somewhere else you’d rather be right now, I’m quite certain I can handle this own my own.”

“What, are you kiddin’? And miss the chance of trying out Stark’s latest gizmo?”

Peggy smirked at his enthusiasm. She’d never admit it, but she wouldn’t mind being the one to zap Dottie with the electric web when she finally came down the alley. “Then I should remind you that patience _is_ a virtue. I’m sure Dottie will be heading our way any second now.”

“If you say so,” Sousa acquiesced and held the web launcher at the ready.

And not a moment too soon, since Peggy really didn't feel like talking at the moment. She had already, at length, relayed how she managed to persuade the Russian woman into agreeing to help them. Of course, certainly details of her visit... had to be omitted.

 

*

 

“To tell you the truth doc, you’re wasting your time on this one. In the little while she’s been ‘ere, she’s caused us nothing but problems. Right now, I’m having trouble getting my boys to bring ‘er lunch. They’re goin’ in pairs, the poor schmucks. And you’re goin’ in there, to... what was it? Conduct a psych evaluation?”

“That’s correct,” Peggy confirmed as she and the guard made their way to the stairway.

“Well... suit yourself. I’ll have two men stand by in case--”

“Actually, I was hoping to speak to miss Underwood in private. You see, patients are usually more cooperative without an authority figure about. In fact, this would be a perfect opportunity for you and the resident guard to have that lunch.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that, doc. You see, it’s against regul--”

Peggy paused at the doorway.

“Mr. Jones... may I call you Garry?”

“You may, but my name is Garret.”

“Right – Garret. Sorry. You did receive a phone call from Mr. Stark?”

The man sighed. “I did.”

“And he did inform you – in this phone call – that you be as accommodating as possible upon my arrival? If I recall correctly, you happen to owe Mr. Stark a great deal--”

“Look, doc. You don’t need to remind me of any of that. Stark got me and the missus out of a huge jam and I’m not the type to forget. But this is for your own protection!”

“Quite unnecessary, I assure you,” Peggy said with a smile. “I shan't come to any harm. Miss Underwood and I have had some interactions before, and believe me – your presence will only serve as a detriment.”

With a resigned grunt Garret continued down the hall with Peggy in tow. ”Alright, have it your way.”

A few minutes later they reached the only cell of the floor, with a single guard posted outside.

“Johnson, take a break.” The guard nodded and moved past them as Garret unlocked the cell. “Underwood, Dr. Wexford is here to conduct your psych evaluation.”

“Show him in,” the response came, and Peggy entered the austere room. The second she glanced up to see her visitor, Dottie’s eyes lit up and her lips curved into a smile. “Hello, Dr Wexford.”

Peggy nodded and turned to the Garret, who immediately got the hint. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

With the sound of the door being locked, the two women were left alone. Mindful of her injury, Peggy slowly pulled the chair and carefully sat down.

“Oh, Peg...” Dottie gasped. “You’re hurt. What _have_ you been up to?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“Hmm, if you say so. You know... seeing you gives me a real boost.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see: You came here in disguise, not in official SSR capacity. That means you don't want this visit on the record, which means you're probably going behind someone's back. How naughty,” Dottie noted with a grin. “So, if you're not here to interrogate me officially and you've gone to such great lengths to hide the fact that you came at all, I think the reason for your visit is pretty obvious. You need my help.”

There was nothing Peggy would’ve liked more than to wipe that smirk off Dottie’s face by slamming the cell door in her face and letting her rot here, but there was no denying the woman was right. Sousa made it abundantly clear their list of possible helpers in getting to Whitney Frost was severely limited and consequently, Peggy had to try her best at playing nice – as much as she resented the very notion of the idea.

“You’re right, I do need your help. Which is why I’m going to break you out of here.”

Dottie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is that right?”

“Yes. And if you come through with our arrangement, I’ll see about getting you deported.”

“Sounds fun. But I think you forgot one little thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t say ‘please’.”

Peggy sighed in frustration. “Let’s not kid ourselves, this would benefit you far more than--”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Dottie interjected. “You wouldn’t be down here if you weren't utterly _desperate_. And as much as I’d like to help you out Peg... I really need to hear you say it.”

It only made sense that the Underwood would use this opportunity to her advantage, but the last thing Peggy expected prior to coming here was to beg for her assistance. _Well..._ she mused inwardly, _at least the payback will be all the more sweet when I lock you back in here._

“Alright... please,” she managed, fairly close to actual physical discomfort over having to say the word.

“There you go,” Dottie chirped with amusement. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Great, so you’ll do it?”

“Don’t be silly, of course not.”

Peggy glared at the Russian woman, trying to determine what game she was playing now. “What?”

“Oh, Peg... you and I both know these walls can’t hold me. By leaving now I’d only be playing into your hand and allowing you to keep tabs on me every step of the way. And what fun would that be? No, I think I will bide my time for a little longer and then leave – on my own terms.”

“You can’t be serious.”

No response came, Dottie’s silence and that infuriatingly insouciant smirk making it perfectly clear that she was in fact quite serious.

“Fine,” Peggy snapped. ”Enjoy your time here then. Seeing how no request for your release came from the Russian government, I dare say you’ll be staying for quite a while. Perhaps you should start redecorating.”

Dottie only grinned wider at the taunt as Peggy slowly rose to her feet. She had barely reached the cell door and it was then that she _should’ve_ realized there was no one outside to open it. Yet that wasn’t what stayed her hand. The conversation with chief Sousa flashed in her memory, intertwined with the maniacal face of Whitney Frost.

This was ridiculous. Dottie was the only one that could help her and she isn’t leaving until they are in agreement.

“Alright,” Peggy said with resignation. “What do you want?”

“Oh, Peg... you _are_ desperate, aren’t you?”

“Out with it.”

“And so snappy too. That’s no way to talk to a friend.”

“Dottie...”

“Let’s see,” she mused like she was going through a restaurant menu. “What... do... I... want? Why don’t we start by you telling me how you got that injury.”

“Whitney Frost,” Peggy responded curtly.

“My, my. And now you’d like my help in getting back at her?”

“Something like that.” Getting back at the woman was the furthest thing on Peggy’s mind, as from what she could tell, dark matter was seriously impairing Frost’s judgment. But this wasn’t the time for elaborate explanations, so playing along seemed the better course of action.

“Well...” Dottie continued as she rose and started inching closer to where Peggy now stood. “I must admit, the two of us make quite a pair. I’m sure there’s no end to what we can achieve if we... work together.”

“Great. So there’s this fundraiser you’ll be going--”

“And will you be going as my date?” Dottie inquired enthusiastically.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course not!”

“Oh, my! Such a sharp dismissal,” she pouted. “You wouldn’t be trying to hurt my feelings, would you Peg? Did our kiss mean so little to you?”

“Wha-- You mean the time you knocked me out using my own lipstick?”

“Well it hardly sounds romantic when you tell it like that.”

“Romantic?! You... have truly, completely, lost your...” Peggy trailed off, as the realization Dottie has somehow managed to close the distance between them dawned on her. Some dangerous combination of mischief, hunger and glee flashed across the Russian woman’s face as her eyes sized Dottie up and down. Just what game is she playing now?

“It does get positively _maddening_ here, I do admit. Day after day, all on my own. The only thing to keep me going that short-but-sweet moment between us.”

Peggy shook her head in disbelief as she tried to avoid looking the other woman in the eye. The idea, the very implication of what Dottie was suggesting was outrageous. And yet, she needed to play along if she was to have any hope of getting her to cooperate.

“You can hardly blame me...” Dottie continued, her body now way too close for comfort. “I’m sure you’ve had similar moments of your own. I do wonder however – who does Peggy Carter think about when she’s by herself? Whose face is in her mind when she’s all... _hot and bothered?_ ” With those words she reached for Peggy’s shirt and popped a single button open. Peggy immediately grabbed her wrist.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m sorry,” Dottie chirped innocently. “I thought you needed my help.”

“I don’t need it _that_ badly.”

“My mistake then.”

They just stood there, Peggy holding her with her indignant expression mirrored by Dottie’s self-satisfied one. She wanted nothing more than to slap the woman and get out of here, Whitney Frost be damned. That certainly was what she _should_ do. But then it suddenly dawned on her. Dottie was trying to see how far she could push her before she lost her cool. It was yet another competition between them, only Peggy was just now starting to learn the rules. _Well you haven’t beaten me before and you shan’t succeed now either,_ she thought. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? Another peck on the lips is likely the furthest Dottie would _dare_ to go. Yes... _If playing this ridiculous little game of yours is what it takes to get you on my side_... _fine. Let’s just see who flinches first._

She loosened the grip on Dottie’s wrist, glaring at her defiantly. Her arch-enemy however, only smiled at the gesture.

“So... are you going to tell me Peggy, or do I have to guess?”

“Guess what?”

“Why, who gets you _wet,_ of course.”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response,” Peggy returned sharply.

“No need. I _bet_ I could guess.”

“In your dreams.”

“Oh we’ve already been over mine. As for you... let’s see. A strong, independent woman... Constantly sidetracked by the incompetence of the men around her. Always trying to get ahead, to prove she’s just as good. I’m having a hard time imagining you with _any_ man at all Peggy. Somehow things never seem to work out between you and chief Sousa, do they? No... no man for you. Now, a woman on the other hand...”

“Completely, completely... mad,” Peggy muttered under her breath. She was so focused on glaring beside Dottie that she missed another of her shirt buttons popping open.

“Perhaps,” the Russian woman agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m off the mark. You know what they say Peg – opposites attract. And a woman as strong and as confident would be a perfect fit for someone lacking those qualities. Someone young and insecure, easily swayed and not quick to judge you for your _outré inclinations_. Tell me, how _is_ miss Martinelli?”

Peggy’s hand shot up to slap Dottie, only to be caught mid-air.

“Don’t you dare talk about Angie!”

“My, my. So quick to anger. I wonder why, if there’s no truth to what I said.”

“There _isn’t_!”

“Are you sure about that?” Dottie challenged, and drew a finger down the skin of Peggy’s stomach. Carter glanced down to see her shirt completely unbuttoned, her white bra the only thing preserving her modesty. When the hell did this happen?

Yet while she was contemplating that, Dottie seized the opportunity and surged forward to capture her lips with a searing kiss.

For a few seconds Peggy surrendered to the feeling of the lips softer than they had any right to be. Her mind swam in the haze of conflicting emotions and memories – memories of some game she thought they were playing and the knowledge that she had long since lost the bloody thing. And then she came to her senses and pushed the assassin away.

“Enough!” she growled. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Don’t be silly Peg, the door is locked and you sent the guards away. Luckily, I have some ideas on how we might pass the time.” With a predatory grin Dottie leaned in for another kiss, but Peggy pulled back, bumping her head against the door.

“You’re just lucky I’m injured, or I’d...” she warned.

“It’s  just one excuse after another with you, isn’t it Peg?”

For the first time since she came here, Peggy was surprised to Dottie look at her not with understated glee but indignation and even a sliver of anger. The woman leaned her head against Peggy’s forehead, her breath hot on her lips. “Tell me... that there isn’t even a smallest part of you that wants this.”

“T-there... There isn't,” she managed, but was shocked to hear how broken and insecure her voice sounded. _Why?_

“Oh Peg... I’m far better at spotting lies than you are at telling them.”

The kiss came faster than Peggy could respond. She fought back, but this time, Dottie would not be pushed away. She pinned Carter’s hands by her side, deepening the kiss almost angrily. The feeling of the woman’s tongue seeking entrance brought one last attempt at resisting, before the pain in her abdomen reminded her it was for naught. Maybe if she wasn’t so weakened by her injury, maybe if she didn’t need Dottie’s help so badly, maybe if the illicit kiss didn’t feel so bloody divine... maybe it would’ve made sense to fight back.

 _Oh god,_ she though as she felt herself yield to the assassin’s lips and sink willingly into the kiss. Seemingly of their own volition, her hands, now free, pulled Dottie close, one snaking around to embrace the woman’s waist whilst the other threaded fingers in her hair.

The assassin urged her lips apart as she explored her body, tracing fingertips up her thighs, over her skirt and up her stomach. She licked into Peggy’s mouth, caressing her tongue with her own. Breathless, guilt-ridden whimpers were now Carter’s only resistance, even as her mind swarmed with indignant thoughts of protest at the illicit nature of their union. Instead of serving as a deterrent, the knowledge she was lip-locked with her enemy only fueled her arousal. And as if Dottie could see the very fire of lust that coiled and radiated from Peggy’s core, she surreptitiously drew her hand down to the hem of the her skirt.

Peggy felt the crimson fabric begin to slide up her thighs, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. This was Dottie Underwood – the Russian assassin, that was feeling her up and yet she didn’t care. The woman was just as likely to snap her neck as she was to get her off, yet it was precisely this dance at the knife edge between bliss and oblivion that had left Peggy incapable of nothing but surrender. She knew she ought to fight back, she ought to slap that impudent hand that slithered up her thigh and push Dottie away.

She couldn’t.

If any notion of doing that had remained inside her mind, the wet path of kisses down her neck soon put it to rest. She gasped pathetically, voicing her arousal. Her eyelids remained shut, making it somehow easier to deal with the nature of what she was doing – or rather – what was being done to her.

“We... oh... we should stop,” she attempted, the unfamiliar sound of her voice making it clear her body had no intention of doing that.

“We really should,” Dottie agreed, and kept sucking kisses from the tender skin of her neck.

“I... I’m serious. I want you to...”

“... stop? I know you do Peg. But not as much as you want me to keep going.” Dottie emphasized the last word by pressing her fingers against the fabric of Peggy’s panties, not the least bit surprised to feel Carter thrusting forward, eager for more. The ‘close, but not quite there’ nature of the contact was proving positively maddening, each deliberately slow swipe tugging at the threads of her sanity. _If only I hadn’t worn them,_ Peggy thought with a blush. Maybe now she’s be relishing the delicious ingress of Dottie’s fingers inside her instead of this merciless teasing.

Yet even as her moans grew more desperate and her skin more flushed, some semblance of control remained. She may gladly accept every scintilla of pleasure that the Russian woman deigns to grant her, but she would not beg. Not _her,_ not Dottie Underwood of all people. That would be admitting defeat; it would show the other woman she had found the thread that made Peggy unravel and completely come undone. No, that kind of weakness was something she would never, ever--

“Oh, god!” She moaned aloud and bit her lip, as she felt those effortlessly skillful digits move her panties aside to slide into her yielding depths. If the realization of just how wet she was did not make her blush, Dottie’s huskily whispered words certainly would.

“Oh, my. You poor girl, all worked up.”

_Ugh. Just shut up, Dottie. Shut up and fu--_

Peggy didn’t dare speak aloud the start of that sentence nor think of an end to it. She didn’t need to. If there was any doubt about her desires, the sheen of perspiration that now covered her skin whilst growing more evident with each forward motion of her hips had laid those to rest. It would only make sense that Dottie undertook every task with consummate skill, but the way her finger traced a leisurely spiral inside her sodden walls made it seem the assassin had mapped every single inch of her body and knew exactly how to put the knowledge to use.

If only that didnt come with Dottie’s incessant teasing.

“This wouldn’t have anything do with what we’ve been talking about, would it? It wasn’t the thought of miss Martinelli that got you this wet, was it you dirty girl?”

God, she was insufferable. “No,” Peggy attempted an angry growl, which only came out as another moan.

She wouldn’t let her. She wouldnt allow this wretched woman to drag innocent little Angie into this. But what was the alternative? Staying silent and risking their illicit encounter ending? Or admiting the obvious and saying it was all Dottie.

No. She couldn’t. _Admitting_ _defeat, remember?_

Maybe... she should just play along. What was the harm in it? Angie would certainly never learn of it – as if there was anything to learn. It was all perfectly harmless... just words, and not a shred of truth to th--

“Ugh, hugghhhh,” she groaned oh-so eloquently at the feeling of Dottie’s palm brushing against her clit.

“I asked you a question, Peg,” the assassin whispered, her breath hotly passing over Peggy’s clavicle. “And if you even _think,_ ” she annunciated with a quick, lascivious lick, “about lying again, I _will_ have to punish you.”

“Ugh, go to hell!” Carter finally blurted out in frustration. To hell with Dottie, to hell with consequence and her threats. She may be wantonly thrusting to meet every motion of the fingers inside her, but that doesn’t mean she wants this. No, she was... tricked. Yes, that’s right. She needed information... or, no... was it... cooperation? About... something...

God, she couldn’t even think any more. If only Dottie stopped for a second, maybe she could get her thoughts together. If her eyes hadnt been firmly shut, she would’ve seen the smug smirk on the assassin’s face as a clear sign that that wasn’t happening.

“Mmmmm, now there’s the Peg I know and love. Fiery, passionate... and yet still afraid of coming clean.”

“I am _not_ af--”

“Then admit it!” Dottie hissed in her ear _._ “Tell me how many times you’ve had your hand between your thighs, thinking of dear little Angie.”

“N-no... I, wouldn’t. We’re friends.”

“And you’ve never wished you were more than that?” Dottie challenged, simultaneously slowing her ministrations and brining her glistening fingers to a standstill. Peggy felt like screaming in frustration, knowing all too well there was only one way to get the other woman to begin anew. Pleasure began to ebb away, and the nigh-painful lack of contact prompted her to take the only course of action available.

“I may... have. Once.”

The assassin grinned at the confession.

It didn’t matter if it was true or not, what mattered is that she needed to feel Dottie’s fingers in the silky depths of her womanhood, to savor the sensation of the heel of Dottie’s palm against her clit, with delicious friction bringing her ever closer to breaking point. She didn’t expect the Russian woman to be merciful.

She was wrong.

Only this time it didn’t matter the assassin meant to tease her through the exquisite ordeal – the words barely registered in Peggy’s lust-addled mind.

“Of course, how could you not,” Dottie noted with a chaste kiss on her lips. And as her motions began rekindling Peggy’s lust, she accentuated each word with a deviously brief brushing of her fingers against that very special spot, the one that made Carter lose all sense of self. “Just imagine it, Peg. Sweet, innocent Angie, completely at your _disposal._ The frightful but trusting look as you order her to undress, the initial shock and subsequent surrender as you tell her to kneel and _lick._ Can you see her Peg? The insecure ingénue in need of guidance _..._ and there you are, pulling her closer to your thighs, your sex, eager to see her lips _coated with your arousal._ ”

“N-no... I... I wouldn’t--”

“Oh, of course you would. The very image of it has you positively dripping. How long have you wanted to _use_ that impressionable girl, Peg? How many times did you have to restrain yourself from taking advantage of her trust to satisfy your _basest, most disgusting urges?_ ”

“I... I...” Peggy attempted, but she couldn’t even think let alone speak. Dottie’s fingers moved faster, while now avoiding her most sensitive spot; instead circling and teasing around it. She was at the mercy of a woman who in the past sought nothing but her destruction and Peggy feared she had found the most humiliating way to achieve it. Whimpering, keening little sounds escaped her throat, some shattered remnants of coherent thought occasionally flashing in her mind.

Dottie Underwood was evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.

“That’s awfully selfish of you Peg. Did you even think about her, about what _she_ needs? Or do you just think of your own disgusting wants?”

“D-Dottie...”

“Luckily for you, your desires happen to align.”

Peggy managed to open her eyes only little, the shock caused by those words barely registering amidst the veritable sea of pleasure. “I... wh--”

“Do you know how her eyes light up when she talks about you? How adorably she blushes when she realizes she got carried away in praising you? She’s utterly enamored with you Peg.”

“She... is?”

“Of course. And you don’t think she goes to bed with you inside her mind, hands sliding down to find some relief... You live together now, do you not? How long before you come home to find her pleasuring herself with your photo in hands, her throbbing cunt slick and inviting... Would you like that Peg? To return to the manor one day and finally get an excuse to _punish_ her.”

“Ugh... I... y-yes,” Peggy went along without thinking. As long as she doesn’t stop. Anything but that.

“It would be for her own good, wouldnt it Peg? The girl needs _discipline._ And who better than you to enforce it?”

“Yes... oh, g-god yes!”

“Will you allow her _the privilege_ of pleasuring you?”

“Yeess...”

“Will you _teach her a lesson_ if she misbehaves?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Bend her over a table and have your way with her ‘till she’s too weak to stand?”

“I... will...”

“And when she’s dripping wet, begging you to stop ‘cause she can’t take any more, will you do it?”

Whether it was the answer to the question or a plea born out of feeling Dottie’s fingers slow down, neither of them knew. But with a breathless gasp, Peggy voiced her only coherent thought:

“No...”

With a satisfied smile Dottie whispered her content. “Good girl.”

A gentle nip on her ear, three firm, “come hither” motions over just the right spot and Peggy was no more. In her place was a writhing, disheveled mess of a woman, clinging for dear life as she felt herself spasming around the invading digits. Wetness trickled down her thighs as she drowned in ecstasy, only vaguely aware Dotty crooned her last words over and over, like a mantra that would not let her stop coming. Somewhere between hoping and fearing she would pass out, Peggy gradually calmed down. She still clung to the other woman, not trusting her legs to support her in such a state.

When she looked up to see Dottie, she was surprised to see no smug smirk or taunting smile. She watched Peggy with uncharacteristic affection, perhaps indulging in the momentary illusion that they were lovers rather than enemies.

How had it come to this? Peggy subconsciously knew that underneath all their animosity always lay a tacit sense of respect they both felt for each other. Perhaps this was only a natural, if somewhat bizarre extension of that. Either way, she had never thought, or even dreamed she’d find herself pinned against the wall by Dottie Underwood, with the assassin knuckle-deep inside of her. She felt a strange urge to laugh at the thought.

“I’d love to know what’s going through your mind right now.”

“Well, uhm...” Peggy tried with a broken, slightly hoarse voice. “Only that you’re starting to overstay your welcome.”

Dottie huffed a laugh at the response, an honest and light-hearted thing, like a musical note hanging in the air. For a short instance she seemed indeed like someone Peggy could see herself with, rather than a brainwashed assassin bent on her destruction. But that indulgent thought was short lived.

Dottie withdrew the sodden digits,  making sure to feel every glistening contour on her way as if to burn them in her memory. Then bringing them to her lips, she made a show of licking each finger slowly, humming in satisfaction.

Peggy would’ve rolled her eyes at the suggestive act, if she wasn’t so utterly transfixed by the lewdness of it.

“Hmmmm,” Dottie noted, her eyes canted upwards as if appraising the taste of a new dish at a restaurant. “A bit more savory than I expected. You know Peg, if we’re going to keep this arrangement going, I _will_ need you to change your diet. Mine is more of a sweet tooth.”

Peggy glared at her, aghast. “I... I... I beg your pardon?!”

Dottie only maintained her serious face for a moment before she was once again all smiles and giggles. “Relax,” she said with an assuaging tone. “I was only kidding.” Then leaning close to the ravished-looking agent, she whispered huskily in her ear. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

It must’ve been the heat. Yes, they were underground, and... the heating must be broken. Because Peggy certainly wouldn’t be blushing over Dottie paying her such a lewd compliment. Of course not, that would be ridiculous.

Before she had a chance to reflect on the truthfulness of the thought, Dottie was once again all-business. “Now then. About this mission...”

“What? Oh! Right – the mission. Yes, of course. The, um... The mission...” Peggy rambled on. What the hell was the mission again?


End file.
